January 2003 Archives
Just got word from the SXSW Interactive Festival people: "WHEDONesque.com" has been selected as a finalist for the 2003 SXSW Interactive Festival Website Competition in the "Weblog" category! [...] After a final round of judging, the winners of each category will be announced at the SXSW Web Awards on Sunday, March 9." This means I get two complimentary registrations for the festival. I can't go to Texas, but it's still cool and I can appoint two representatives who can get those registrations. Any takers?
"I'm a shy gent," he says. Yeah, a shy, gentle... exhibitionist. (4.7mb .asf)
Today was national spoil a Prol day. My Ralph Lauren Polo for Women is all but finished (and I'm bored with it) so when a nice lady in a nice shop asked if I wanted to take a whiff off Emporio Armani White I stuck my nose in and got my dosh out. Hmm... lemongrass. In the afternoon I suddenly absolutely needed a capture card, so I jumped on me bike and got one down the road. It's a simple thing not really meant for heavy duty capturing, not unlike the ATI All-In-Wonder: the Pinnacle PCTV Pro. It's really for watching TV (and FM Radio) on your computer. It's a little too heavy for my current computer which cannot run the capture software that comes with it smoothly, but it works fine with the freebie Virtual Dub.. so finally I can capture stuff again and it'll be super once I get a new comp. And then I've still got 60 dollars or so in quarterly Amazon.com gift vouchers. I already spent the co.uk one on the Beth Gibbons and Rusty thingy CD, a Fast Show DVD and the U2 Best of DVD. Hmm... consumer orgasm!
Gee, guess what arrived in the mail today?
Interview with Brad Dourif: "Christopher (Lee) 's been around forever, knows every single person on planet Earth and has done everything."
4 am, Friday morning. On the plus site, missing out on Sinead meant I could attend my acting class, the penultimate one. We rehearsed for our 'open' class next week. (Yes, darlings, it's next week. You're all very welcome.) Then we went and got ratarsed.
Thick snowflakes outside my window at work. It would be pretty if there was a little sun to lighten things up. I'll be rushing back to Amsterdam tonight to check if those damn tickets have arrived. If so, I'll rush to Utrecht and might even make it in time. If not, I'll rush to acting class. One of these days I'm going to rush right into a wall. (update: no tickets. no gig.)
Seething. I was going to see Sinead O'Connor tomorrow. My friend bought tickets for me last year when I was away in England. She sent them to me last Friday, but they never arrived.
movabletype 2.6 is coming up including much needed text formatting and comments options. I'm happy to say MT is now running smoothly on pair.com since pair have altered their server settings specifically to aid MT users. I've been testing a copy of U2log.com on pair and even without the cgiwrap option it's running smoothly, no error 500's. Mightily pleased with that. Looking forward to 2.6. And yes, god help me, I'm redesigning on top of everything else. Chris, silent U2log.com editor and author of Designing CSS Web Pages, will be helping out with coding. Watch me being all grateful and sinking to my knees in breathless adoration.
When you're busy, you find time to do things you shouldn't be finding time for. Like moving your biggest site to another host and registrar and effing around with Movable Type all night trying to get an import/export sorted, failing because of earlier failed imports/exports... and finally going at it the hard way with command line mysql, raw sqldump import. And it worked. I feel so nerdy. (except of course it isn't nerdy, cause it's really dead easy if you know what you're doing, which I don't.) And then you think 'I really should redesign as well'.
Finally: Maria McKee - High Dive. Her new album.
The worst thing about setting up sites like U2log.com or WHEDONesque.com is the e-mail you get from people thinking you ARE the person(s) the site is about. I get tons of e-mail from people begging Bono for ... lots of things. Actually, recently it's been a lot of people wanting to help DATA in some way, which is good, I suppose. The Spike fans that contact WHEDONesque are enough to make you want to bang your head into a steel door. Repeatedly. "Please don't hurt our Spikey. He's not bad, he's good. Please let Buffy and him get together. They are soul mates." That kind of tripe. The minute you start writing a TV producer to beg for a storyline to suit your sorry self you've really lost it, if you ask me. Also, hello, vampire. 200+ year old killing machine who tried to rape the Slayer and doesn't tan well. Not a good catch. Also... she belongs with Giles, can't you see that, silly bint?
I need to put my hot little head in a freezer.
... also: should one of my sites win, is there anybody out there who would be willing to accept the award at SXSW on my behalf?
Just, you know, as an aside... has anyone else ever have three of their sites nominated in four categories in The Bloggies? (Sorry, I don't get out much.)
Bit jellus of my friend who got the OLYMPUS C-5050ZOOM. Gorgeous little thing, a step or two or more up from my own C-2000.
More Dublin photos, a tip from Tom: Fantasyjackpalance.com
Oliver, Daily: 15 January. My favourite online dog in full flight. Oh just click on the little arrow at the top, see them all. When I grow up I want to be Oliver and have a boss like Dean and a house in France and my own blogging tool.
Textpattern: web writing tools. The screenshots are droolworthy.
Plasticbag.org is the best European weblog, by the way, even if - perhaps - it's not particulary European. Perhaps there should be a "Best UK weblog" category in the Bloggies. Anyway, I'd vote plasticbag.org, if they were, you know, nominated. Don't vote me. (but do vote WHEDONesque...)
Anti-Bloggies.com: "The Anti-Bloggies are going to be a little late this year. That other awards ceremony won't be announcing their winners until March 9, and we can't properly skewer their proceedings without knowing the winners."
AlterNet: The Alties 2003: vox populi movie awards.
Cathal Coughlan's beautiful The Sky's Awful Blue album's finally got distribution in America. Go on. Order.
I haven't been since November 2001. Missing Dublin a bit, or perhaps the people in it. I love this street and Aungier street too. It's more or less untouched yet.
Twenty million pictures of that fashion show and none, NONE, of himself. Or his "Dublin Spire".
Celebrities Are Your Friends, by Bob Morris. Would you like to meet Bob?
I cannot escape, even at work .
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Derek ( Author, Designer, Troublemaker, Person ) redesigns. Never ask the bearded man in the cheese shop for an egg salad sandwich.
If anyone's interested in taking over the domain "log.nu", let me know.
10pm. Another 14 or 15 gigs written up. I have five days to do another 34 if I want to make my first self imposed deadline. Four of which are work days, so the word *impossible* springs to mind. A kind anonymous soul took the trouble to tell me it would 'never be as good' as when my friend wrote the first edition. We're perfectly aware of that, sweetie. Now go and fuck yourself, spiteful talentless [insert expletive].
"What's that actor called," she said and I answered. "Ah, nice one," she said, "our new worker's erudite." I smiled and knew better.
I cooked a lovely chicken curry, a side dish of urad dal and I heated three roti. Sat down with a moutwatering plate of food. Burnt my mouth, nearly stripping it of its lining, with the first bite. That's that ruined then.
Got some urad lentils (black lentils) from the impossibly disorganised Surinamese shop in the neighbourhood. They have a good selection of dried pulses but I get the impression they've no idea what it is they're selling. Anyway, might try my hand at this easy one tonight: Curried Black Lentil Soup.
I ate in Palmers restaurant on Zeedijk last night. Their dishes have 'cute' names - which really is quite tiresome. I had "Too much to ask" (sea bass on lentils with figs and nuts) was quite nice, but ordering chips on the side was no extravagance. My dining partner had "O Yes, let me stay forever and ever and ever! " (BJ ice cream in white chocolate 'soup') for dessert. It tasted like lukewarm milk.
When we were asked if we had enjoyed our meal we answered up front. We explained we didn't like dessert and the waitress butted in saying: "Well.. it's MY favourite." When we said it tasted milky she replied: "Well, yes, it's cream. It's a matter of taste, really."
When I suggested they lift the tone of the dish with a touch of vanilla, or nutmeg, she looked at me blankly. And *poof*, they lost a customer there. The least they can do is take the customer seriously. Discuss the dish. Get the cook, let him talk about it. If that's too much trouble, offer coffee.
In acting class we were asked to do a scene from Harold Pinter's Betrayal. I imagine the teacher picked it because of the scene I did a few weeks ago which wasn't Pinter, but became Pinteresque through our interpretation.
This time knowing the scene (from the film) hindered me in playing it, especially since we decided to play it differently and forgot to think of a setting, blocking or any decent characterisation. Didn't come off half bad in the end purely through good... voicing (is that a word?). But not particularly satisfying.
We have three more lessons and the last one is open, we can bring friends. Still debating whether to actually invite someone to see my first steps on 'stage'. Anyway, it made me want to see the film verson of Betrayal again (Jeremy Irons, Ben Kingsley) only to find out the VHS is deleted and there's no DVD release as yet.
I found an interesting looking blog through my referrers and thought of linking it. Reading it, they're actually slagging off one of my sites. Talk about cold shower. "poorly designed" and "stupid series". Poorly designed... fair enough. But don't diss my TV show, man.
Dutch elections. Bloggies. Pah. The real question is, will Whedonesque be one of the finalists in the SXSW /interactive/web_awards?
ShowBizIreland has some good Sinead O'Connor photos. I'll be seeing her in concert again next week.
Foreign press mostly seem to miss the point of the outcome of the Dutch elections, except the Washington Post. Christian Democrats are the biggest party, but Labour gained (back) the most ground thanks to leader Wouter Bos's inspired campaign.
Dutch coalition talks begin after votes (Ananova).
Ruling party out in front in Dutch voting projections (IHT)
Dutch voters shun Fortuyn list.(Guardian)
Left Wing Bounce Back in Dutch Elections (Washington Post).
Dutch elections results, in case you're wondering. Bluddy Christians.
Low point of the day: 5.50pm stuck at Naarden-Bussum station, train accident. Hundreds of people trying to get on a bus to Amsterdam. Bus barely escapes crash on crossing. Got home to continue evening shift at 8.15. It's 1am, election day is over. My morning shift starts 8.30am. Drained is not the word.
Third Annual Weblog Awards. Voting has started. Three of my sites are nominated, in various categories. Prolific.org doesn't deserve best European. U2log.com won one last year, so doesn't deserve it either. (Thanks to all for nominating us!) However, WHEDONesque is nominated in best new weblog and best topical. Go vote for my new baby!
Prol's in charge of being in charge.
Dutch voters set to swing left. Did I mention we're having elections tomorrow? Before racing into work, I'll be stomping off to the polls tomorrow to vote. Because that's my right. One of the few things we really do have a "right" to, children of the "it's my right, cuz it is" generation. Last year we were heading towards the first right-wing gay Dutch PM. Now we might have the first left-wing Jewish Dutch PM. This country has smoked too much, I think. Anyway, I hope I never have to hear about Dutch "nooooormen en waarden" or "inburgeren" (don't ask) again. Because honest to Joss, I'll sign up to actively "uit-fucking-burger".
mood-indigo.net: Rachel's truly been prolific.
You wouldn't believe the kind of power I'll be wielding in the next two days. Muwahahaha.
He: "I'm doing that fashion show. Walking the catwalk along with so and so."
She: "What are you modelling?"
He: "Don't know. But I'll have something up my sleeve, or should I say 'in my pants'"
She: "That's ok, luv, as long as you keep it there and don't bother the luvly gurls with it."
Did I mention I'm going to see Peter Gabriel on May 2nd? A woo. And a hoo. He's the only major artist that I've always wanted to see and haven't yet. Except for Sinatra, but he's dead. And the Virgin Prunes, but they won't reform until they're in their weelchairs.
Matt says: "According to their stats, Live Journal right now has over 43,000 paid accounts, each member paying anywhere from $2 to $2.50 a month, which is about $90,000 a month, or around $3,000 a day. $3k a day is almost $1.1 million annually." Colour me stunned. It's not something I'd fork over my hard earned for. But anyway... apparently there is money to be made in weblogging. Ssssh!
No. No. No. It can't be past midnight. The weekend cannot be over. Not now. It's not fair. (Stamps feet. Throws tantrum)
All cities have their sounds.
In Dublin, it would be the street vendors on Henry Street, crying out in deep Dublinese: "cigareet loighters, foive-fer-a-pownd".
From Dakar all that stays with me is the muezzin calling out the adhan from the minaret: "al-la-hu ak-bar al-la-hu ak-bar".
But I'll remember Rio de Janeiro by the words "Matte Leao".
We spent five days in Brazil, an Easter holiday in 1980. I was 16 years old. We rented a little apartment not too far from Copacabana. It was anything but luxurious. A sparse front room, adjacent kitchen in a tiny alcove, my bed was in the hall next to the front door.
In the morning I would wake up from the buzz coming in through the window from down in the street. The heat was overwhelming. Looking down we discovered a gorgeous view of neat piles of colourful fruit and vegetables. Walking past, the vendors would offer slices of juicy oranges.
We didn't speak the language which was sometimes problematic. We'd try to get a cup of cafezinho or a loaf of bread in the botequim, the corner bar, on the road. First you pay and get a ticket. Then you'd get the goods. But if you didn't know what goods there were and what you wanted...
Rio wasn't like any other place I'd been at that young age. Multicultural didn't seem to cover it. People of all shape, size, colour in tiny, tiny swim wear on the beach. Friends drove us around, avoiding a a little heap of voodoo magic on the cross roads. It was as frightening as it was exciting, this travelling we did just before the world shrunk. These days you kids would laugh at our 'adventures'.
I was a kid still, playing dangerous games with the waves on Copacabana, diving in under the crest just before it breaks.
My body wrecked from the ocean's force, warming on the beach, I'd hum the tune of Garota de Ipanema and keep one eye on the sights on offer. Dutch boys didn't look like that. Didn't flaunt like that. Still pre-sexual, I thought the whole thing was repulsive, yet mildly intriguing.
Thirsty, we would buy from the boys and men selling liquid from what may have been gourds, but perhaps were plastic canisters. The mind does cheat and polishes up the memories.
"Matte Leao, Matte Leao!" they'd holler and my father and I, sensitive to language, worked it out. "Matte," I knew was a kind of tea. I'd read it somewhere. "Leao" took a little longer, but my father saw the brand's image and it clicked. We bought the drinks in plastic cups.
Too young for more than a sip of caipirinha, the bitter taste of Yerba leaf was my concession to the city.
I stood facing Christ Redeemer on Corcovado mountain and we got caught in a thunderstorm on the cable car coming down from Pão de Açucar, but really, Rio de Janeiro was all about the beach.
"Matte Leao! Matte Leao!"
Saturday: wiped out. Cough, hack, splatter. Forced myself into work last week despite flu-type symptons and pay the price on the weekend. My stepmum would say: "Well you shoulda married a rich man". But then I bet I'd be too busy dieting and praying he doesn't run off with his secretary. Or I'd be shagging the groundsman. There's something to be said for my stepmum's idea.
My friend Dave-id who everybody but me calls 'Scott', has had a little make over done on his site. Look who got a mention in the bio. They got the book title wrong, though.
Marti Noxon (exec. prod on BtVS) on her boss, Joss Whedon's personal beliefs: "I think that he does feel like it's sort of a meaningless void, and what matters is the struggle to find the good. And the relationships you build with people while you struggle. And in some ways you'll never find it, but the quest and the questors, and the people that you find, who are not necessarily your family, are the only thing that lends the journey meaning." (And people wonder why we like Buffy... and JW's work in general.)
Attack of the Kraken... (via AntiPixel)
Straight Dope Message Board - If LotR Had Been Written By Someone Else!?: "By now ah'm feelin all barry likes, and me and Gandalf ur discussin the fitba, which was nae a gud idea since ah'm a Hibs supporter and Gandalf's Herts. -Ye fuckin Proddy wanker he shouts at me and I start tae clobber him, a good clean fight n aw, ye ken, until he pulls oot a blade." (in the style of Irvine Welsh) There's oodles of great stuff here, including LOTR to the tune of Bohemian Rapsody. (From MeFi)
Massive Attack's first album was released the year of the Gulf war, as far as I can remember. The current MA website, has a big pop up that says "NO WAR ON IRAQ". Their new album "100th window" (annoying flash website), a one man show, is bleak. It's ice and paranoia, the sound of people who are laying off the ganja, meeting the real world. It reminds me of lots of things that used to fester in the 80s.
First chapter's off to the publisher.
Pictures of our launch and press conference today, my boss looking happy with the laptop.
We're about 45 minutes away from going live with our new site at work. Which would be a lot more exciting if I wasn't busy filling tissues with snot. Anyway, it's the first time for me, to work on a 'big' site. (#7 last year, just behind Google.nl) 's Weird.
"The books are a bit long, but the movies rawk!" The Return of the King photo gallery. Wow. (via MKT)
I'm turning 40 in about 3 months time. With the new and busy (it's good, it's GOOD) job, the book, the sites to run, I was finding it hard to even think of some sort of plan for the day. My Dutch friends may expect a big do, organised by yours truly. Sorry guys, but I'll be fleeing the country. I'm going to be here, courtesy of Messrs Hg and DYFL. Which is just groovy and really takes a load off me.
Wherever You Are's got new threads and for some reason looks very Dutch to me. Dutch, but nice.
STARSHIP EXETER, the Savage Empire. Star Trek fan-movie. (via MeFi)
It's official: My uncle, Herman Pieter de Boer, has won a 'Gouden Harp' (Golden Harp, a prestigious Dutch music award) for his body of work as a lyricist. The jury says it was high time he was recognised for his work. So true.
V. cool. I'm at work and a colleague just mentioned the winners of an award (to be publically announced later today)... and one of them is a family member. More later today.
Griffin Technology: the iTrip, FM transmitter for iPod. That's lovely, but shouldn't it be a feature of th iPod itself? For all that money, surely they could make it a radio as well. Like my little mp3 player.
A jury of one's peers. Scariest thing in the world. Well, they like it. They really, really like it. So sending it off to the publishers shouldn't be scary at all. Really.
From -7 to +7. I feel a lot, lot better without the hypothermia.
Hey, Dutch readers... Six Feet Under starts Jan 20, every monday evening at 11pm, on Ned. 3 (NPS). A seriously good series. Trust me. I'm a watcher.
Anyone knowledgeable about Punk reading this? Ending a gig with "goodnight, fuck off", would that be considered a punk statement?
She's six years old and worries about things. Like why I'm all alone and have to travel all the way back to Amsterdam. And why, when I'm sick, I have no 'man' to look after me. And when she hears I have headaches she insists I should 'eat soup'. Her 2 year old sister plants a wet, snotty kiss on my cheek. The 8-year old, the brother, demands we put that great song by 'Mud' on. He dances around like he's seen 'em do on TV. Everybody who reads me regularly knows I'm not too keen on kids. Except my friend's little trio, ' course, they're lovely.
Uhn. Yes. UHN. YES. YESS. UUUHN. (The sound of extra RAM in my computer.)
's Not often you can hear Mr Williams sing 'Angels' these days without hamming it up. It's a pity he's so insecure he feels the need to joke all the flippin time. Anyway, here he is, at Maida Vale singing 4 songs for the BBC. Lovely to see him belt it out now with the more lived in voice.
New Goldfrapp website has that cut up / collage feel we saw on CassieNewton.com (site of character in BtVS S7)
Watch a bit of the Bring It On video by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.
One of my new colleagues is in a band: Hip!Jesus. I've only listened to the song "Wake Me Up", which I give a positive "thumbs up".
Allyourtrekarebelongto.us: "I've been working out."
I don't remember which site I picked this up from: Lord of the Rings - Return of the King, scans of a 2003 calendar. Good old Gandalf the White looking fierce there.
(Caution, full on whine coming up) My day was THE SUCK as they say across the pond in Californiay. I'm an 45mins late coming into work because of tram and train delays. Standing on the platform in the coldest day so far the one time I decide NOT to wear my fleece sweater. At work I'm so tired I can't string two sentences together. Halfway through I drop everything I'm doing in order to do a rush job on something else. Ever tried designing on a flatscreen monitor? Christ almighty, who invented those? At 6pm I call it a day and start making my way home. Some switch at Weesp station has collapsed. More train delays. I'm starving. I don't make it back home till 8pm. I change, I rush back into town, gobbling down a sausage roll for dinner. I'm only five minutes late for acting classes. In which I do very very badly. Come back close to midnight, just absolutely knackered. I forgot to mention I also got a string of abuse shouted at me on my own bloody site.I will stop whining now. Because I really have to go to bed so I can wake up and have everything repeat itself.
""I'm not myself today"," he says. Funny, har har. If I could, he knows I would.
I really, really don't have the time or energy for social engagements right now, but I haven't got the balls to tell friends 'no'.
Sometimes you're like an eagle strong like a rock
other times it seems you get unlocked
and all of your worst fears come tumbling out
into the street into the snow
- Lou Reed
Muiderpoort Station 8:20 AM
Muiderpoort Station 8:21 AM
Muiderpoort Station 8:22 AM
Bastard Pop, mash ups... via posterestante.org
I feel so odd. I feel like I've cried for hours. Tired eyes, runny nose type of feeling. I wonder if I'm catching a cold, or whether I had nightmares all night. I don't remember anything other than waking up and just wanting to go straight back to sleep for the rest of the week.
Nifty bookmarklet by Milov: !usedcolors. For webdevelopers.
I never seem to win anything but posters on line. Last year it was the Buffy musical poster. This time it's a signed Einstuerzende Neubauten poster. Plus a nifty Neubauten car sticker. I don't have a car. I could stick it on my window, but I think that's best left to the young and daring.
Happy travels, Chris, and hopefully see you soon. Doyoufeelloved.com is coming to our shores.
2003. Out: Wil Weaton. In: Will Gibson. He's started the weblog I mentioned earlier this week.
Popquiz! One of the fun tasks I have at the moment is trying to figure out all the snippets of other songs Bono puts into his own when he's singing live. Most people will remember the Live Aid performance where Bad segued into bits of Walk on the Wild Side, and Ruby Tuesday. I have one such snippet here that I don't recognise. Listen to this recording of Mysterious Ways (6mb). At about 4.55 into the song B. goes off on a tangent and it doesn't ring any bells with me.
's Funny when work and play collide. Merel, the iBook girl, remember, will make it to our homepage today. (at 10.30 gmt+1)
Stedelijk Museum of Modern Art Amsterdam. Finally they've built themselves a presentable website. Very simple. I approve.
William Gibson blog, coming soon. (via Lia)
Sorry, no time to write. Busy kissing EVERY SINGLE COLLEAGUE in the building happy new year and best wishes etc. etc. etc.
There's so much choice in apples at the supermarket. I like sweet and juicy (not a big Granny Smith fan) and at the moment I keep buying Red Fuji Apples. I've also tried Pink Lady, but they're less juicy. To read Fuji Apples were 'developed at the Tohuku Research Station in Japan' lessens their appeal
I do most of the writing for the book at the computer, as it's mostly gathering information, rewriting it, adding bits and pieces of transcript and translating the many languages Bono attempts to speak on tour. It's editing more than writing. But there are some introductory texts that need to be composed for each chapter. They have to come from my brain and staring at a blank page really doesn't work. So I fret and I worry and I think I'm never going to be able to write 'em. But then they steal upon me when my body's doing something on automatic pilot, like taking a shower, walking down the street or taking a tram. Suddenly the sweet flow of words starts, paragraphs form in my head. I have to either run back to the computer to type it up, or scribble it down in a notebook, lest I forget. I'm on a roll right now and tomorrow the flow's cut off by the necessity of the day job. It's very frustrating.
Well colour me surprised to learn that Eastenders' Tom is in fact played by Colm O Maonlai. A bloke I hung out with a bit in the early 90s when he was the drummer in "The Prunes". He helped me with some Irish translations. He was doing a bit of modelling at the time - really, he was heartstoppingly gorgeous. (This is him a few years even before the gorgeous thing set in.) I really didn't recognise him. They say blokes get better looking as they grow older. Hmm. He must be the exception to the rule. Or perhaps it's all in the haircut. Sorry Cölmbölm.
Do I have any Brazilian readers? I'm listening to some U2 shows in Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paolo, and whenever there's a lull, the audience start chanting something that sounds like "SÓ PARA LOUCOS" (only for mad people). Now there's an album of that name, by hardcore band Skoria, but I don't think it's one of their songs - it sounds like a more traditional samba type song. Any idea? I'm rather proud of myself, because I deciphered most of the Portuguese that's spoken at the gigs all by my lonesome (with a little help of Google and Babelfish)
Jeffrey Zeldman: "We wish we were not writing a book. Every author wishes he were not writing a book. Unless he is a she. Then she wishes she were not writing a book." Speak for yourself, darling.
I love it when I solve my own problems. DVD-player needed a scary new firmware upgrade. Sorted.
Watching the second half of Star Trek Nemesis right now. Wow. It's like watching a really bad episode of ST:OS. It even has tacky 60s monster film music. I don't know if Star Trek's gone down the drain, or if I'm used to a different standard now as an avid Joss Whedon watcher.
Someone in New York burnt 10 data DVDs for me, essential listening material for the book. He tested them on Windows machines running XP and 2000 and had no problems reading 'em. Then he FedExed the discs to me. I jumped for joy, it saves me so much time to have this stuff at my disposal. But my computer says the discs aren't formatted. Today I travelled halfway across the country to try them on my dad's brandnew Dell. It didn't even see the discs. And I lose yet another day of my precious precious time. *bangs head against wall*
Many thanks to my Secret Santa Kristina (who revealed herself to me at an early stage) for Emmylou Harris' Wrecking Ball. From the minute you put this one on you'll recognise the Daniel Lanois production. Very very dominant man in the studio, that Danny. Though he seems quite meek in person, the few times I've met or seen him.
I wonder whether keeping Ticketstubs is essentially a male thing to do. Thirty stories, only three of which seem to be by women, two of which are mine.
Metafilter: Remixed. A MetaMetafilter. Manages to distill 1. Invisibles - a site that seems to get linked every 6 months. Very old hat. And 2. The incredibly stupid and somewhat offensive "eeew, Marmite, that's, like... sooo weird" post. Think I'll stick to the real MeFi and do all the filtering with my own brain.
Geographically accurate Tube map. No. No! NO! All the lines are straight. Straight, I tell you!
My second Ticketstubs story is up. I reworked it from something I've written here, so don't be too excited.
Now if it stopped raining, perhaps we could all start enjoying this new year.
Third Annual Weblog Awards. Suggestion: why not nominate WHEDONesque.com? (Best new, best topical, best community)
My first Ticketstubs story is up.
Matt launches Ticketstubs. Upload ticket. Tell story. Applause. (My entry uploaded, waiting for approval, thinking of more.)
Happy Birthday Mr Northernlake and many happy returns of the day.
My aunt and uncle are spending time in France with their son. They're getting a bit tired of French food. ("Salad, salad, salad... a plate of rice would be nice for a change.") So I started describing my dinner to them (Pindang Sapi... Gulai Kambing... Fried Chicken... Pumpkin and string beans & fish...). I belie